


A Song of Snow

by DisorientedOwl



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Language Gap, M/M, Nomad AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisorientedOwl/pseuds/DisorientedOwl
Summary: Jazz wakes up warm when he should be cold in the hollowed out tree in the snowbound world of winter. Jazz just wants to get away from this stranger and back to the people he belongs with.But his new friend might know more about him than he lets on, and for some reason keeps him close. Is there more to this than meets the eye.





	1. Chapter 1

The crunch of snow beneath his pedes was all that could be heard to an untrained audial, but Prowl had heard the noise of the snow-laden forest. He was a glorified scout, sent ahead to determine the safety and resources for his faction in this harsh winter climate. There was a loud quality to the silence, the sleeping trees, and animals all factoring into his onboard computer with uses and likelihood of survival. But for once it wasn’t his survivability in his surroundings that had him noisily push through the snow.

It was the song.

It carried low to the ground, like the dirge of a slowly passing processional. Prowl didn’t recognize it as one of his own songs, but something made him desperately search in the snow, passing far beyond the range of safe territory into the fringes of ‘civilization’.

That’s where he found the body.

His optics and visor were offline and he looked as if he was crawling into the well. But that strange warbling tune still emitted from him, as if it wasn’t coming from his lips but the song of the spark inside him.

Prowl looked around, there was no way this wasn’t a bot who was no longer wanted by his kind. From his paint, it looked as if he belonged to the city. The geometric megaplexes were reflected in his paint. The likelihood of survival for him among his own kind was low.

His computer offered a solution, it was a high chance of survival if Prowl himself took him in. He had emergency provisions, in case he needed to treat himself. But now it seemed they would find a better use for another bot.

As long as everything followed the simulation, it would be okay. He could drop him off in a city on his way back to his tribe.

Prowl took off the long fur cape that surrounded his back and wrapped the mech in it, lifting him gently. The song cut off as his helm lolled inward and Prowl froze, but as far as he could tell, the mech’s systems were still online.

Jazz onlined slowly but he felt warm. Warmth was unexpected and meant he was in trouble. Last time he was conscious of anything he was freezing cold lying on the ground waiting for someone to come find him. He hadn’t gone far from his team after the attack. Whatever it was that attacked them was now a fuzzy memory, lost in the warmth of the room and the smell of fur.

He groaned and heard a soft, unfamiliar murmur beside him. Felt something on his lips. It was energon. At least, he hoped it was energon.

Dimly he realized he was tied down, maybe he thrashed while being healed or perhaps he wasn’t in the hands of his team. Either one was something he couldn’t think about as he downed the last of the energon and tried to focus on his captor.

It did him no good, the more he tried to rouse his failing systems the more he realized he was more hurt than he originally thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl wanders through the snow, ready to be rid of his unfortunate guest on the nearest city willing to take him. But when a mischevious threesome approach, he realizes he may be in more trouble than originally thought.

     Prowl was certain that his guest would not wake up. At first, he was wild and thrashing in his sleep. But once he administered healing nanites the thrashing calmed and his patient didn’t wake up as frequently.  
  
     There was a calculated percentage that he would indeed wake and break free of his bonds but hopefully would realize that he was in good servos or want to at least meet his captor.  
  
     So far, everything was in workable perimeters. The risk was relatively low and he could still maintain his winter position in time for the early blooms. He’d be rid of the mech once moderately healed, drop him off in front of one of those places that fed you mercury and sent you home with boosters.  
  
     But he didn’t have enough coolant, he could drop a few antifreeze tablets into the water but he would have to purify it. Which was the reason for his tiny reassurances to himself that the mech in his care would indeed not rouse himself from medically induced recharge.  
  
     Snow would be the purer form and luckily his world was filled with it. It would have to be untouched which meant trailed through the trees to the drifts of open air. He leaned down to inspect drifts of snow for disturbance, selecting careful handfuls using his chilling servos to scoop it into a bag.

 

     Prowl's HUD picked them up before the shrill call of cold air within a jet engine turbine. A seeker trine, coming in for a landing on the opposite side of the field. They looked alike save for their gilded color differences, red, blue, and purple. He heard one splutter about the cold on impact, speaking out their harsh words and shouting. Prowl could catch the meaning, the cold did not treat turbines and elevators well at high altitudes. He knew many of his own aerial friends to speak volumes on why flying low was so frustrating.

     The red one stalked forward first, followed by the blue with the purple trailing behind. His onboard systems warned of an energy flux and suddenly the purple was in front of him.

 

     "Hello there."

 

     Luckily the surprise of the warp made an easy cover for his knowledge of the language the seeker spoke. Prowl narrowed his optics and uttered a low insult, as customary.

 

      "Skywarp!"

     The violet seeker turned at the sound of his name and the red one snapped out, "Wait there, you don't know if he can hurt you."

     "What's he going to do, stab me?"

     Skywarp laughed and looked down at Prowl and the grounder turned to look back to snow as if his computer wasn't rapidly cycling through simulations at the appearance of the trine.

     "Are they stupid, Thundercracker, or what?"

      The blue one spoke at this, his onboard automatically assigning their designations, "Shut up."

      The red one remained unnamed as they awkwardly stumbled through the snow. At least the condescending one known as Skywarp took mirth in their predicament as well. He snorted loudly at the sight of Thundercracker mistaking a bank for stable footing.

     Out of breath, the blue one spoke in a broken accent .:. _Talk, talk?_.:.

     Prowl frowned, it was a language he knew luckily enough but why was the seeker trying to talk to him in the local dialect?

    .:. _Pardon?_.:.

     Thundercracker at least knew he'd messed up the words so he began to mime alongside them .:. _Speak.....language?_.:.

     It was far too frustrating to listen to the seeker murder a language that wasn't even his, so Prowl vented out a sigh and met the red one's optics, "Yes, I speak your language."

     Skywarp laughed shrilly before barking out, "He doesn't even mess up the words, listen to that."

     Prowl would have to be patient. He was outnumbered and outgunned. As of yet, they posed only a passive threat.

     "Greetings," the red one finally spoke, his voice had a low elegance to it, as if he'd been trained to speak, "I am Starscream, this is Skywarp and Thundercracker."

     Prowl nodded his helm, keeping a straight face as he replied, "I'm Backfire."

     Thundercracker kicked Skywarp before he could laugh and glared.

     Starscream gave a nod in return, "Backfire, we're looking for a friend of ours. His name is Jazz."

     Prowl stood up, brushing the snow from his knees carefully. The red seeker watched him, narrowing his optics at the delay in their search. He huffed out as the grounder took his time.

     "Don't know any mech by that name," he responded finally.

    Thundercracker looked at Skywarp who shrugged before deferring to Starscream. They spoke lowly to each other over comm frequencies.

     "Have you seen or heard anything unusual recently?" Starscream asked again.

    Prowl nodded and noted the uptake in wing language. He learned to control those microexpressions long ago but apparently, these flyboys didn't know how.

     "What's in it for me?"

    It was the normal rules of trade, withhold what you could, keep whatever happened.

    The two turned to the blue seeker who scrambled to find something in his subspace to offer. What he gave would be useless to Prowl, a grade of energon for flight frames, but it was a solid trade. He stored the cube in his subspace. 

    "There was some kind of scuffle," Prowl responded, "I stayed clear, no sign of any mech left behind. Where should I take him if I find him?"

     Starscream narrowed his optics and turned his helm to the left, as if there was a pain in his neckcabling, "Thundercracker, give him your private comm line."

     His trine member huffed in obvious distaste but nevertheless sent a proximity ping to Prowl with a private comm line memo.

     "Can we get out of here? All this ice is making my thrusters crack." Skywarp complained loudly.

    The leader didn't comment and his trine stayed poised with the tension. The two desperately wanting to leave and the one far too intelligent for Prowl's liking.

      "Thank you, Backfire," Starscream sagely responded almost causing Prowl to double over in laughter, "You intelligence is invaluable to us."

     As Prowl watched the trine take off the backburner processes in his helm finally took over full computation. His battle computer overwhelmed all of his processor function and he dropped to his pedes. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl wakes up after a significant crash. But at least he has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really want this to be a chapter because it didn't feel like a chapter it just feels like transitions you know? But it didn't fit with the chapter before it, and it doesn't fit with the next chapter. Anyway, here's wonderwall.

    Prowl woke with a processor ache and a temperature warning, but his onboard computer fully simulated and rendered an alternative plan for his guest. Predictably, he didn’t like it. Begrudgingly he realized with the seekers out, it’d be the more viable option. 

 

    Prowl’s cabling creaked with the stress of being still too long. His chronometer and the lowering sun told him hours had passed. He sludged through the snow, not bothering to mask his pedsteps. 

 

     His computer gave him a laundry list of things to do; he’d need to stoke the plasma of the fire to heat up the snow still waiting in his subspace. This was a lot of effort to go through for a pathetic excuse ⏤

 

     He quieted his inner hatred that reared its helm, twisting around his processor like a razor snake. If seekers as gilded as those three were after him, this ‘Jazz’ must be very important. Or very wanted. Both things his Prime would be interested in. This was a heavy burden that made him feel like the snow was thick as sludge. 

 

    When Prowl returned, the plasma was low, small embers putting out a low heat. To put solid fuel on it would cause smoke. He really didn’t feel like dragging his guest outside.

 

    He vented out. A long-range communication could be easily intercepted. Not by the seekers in particular, but by someone who would gladly trade for their capture. However, he was just repeating to himself what he already knew. Now was the time for action not doubt. He looked over to Jazz if that was his true name. 

 

    Prowl stood next to the berth and swiped his servo across it, wiping away imaginary crumbs. There was an abnormal heat to the berth. He frowned and pressed to Jazz’s forehelm. Not broiling yet, but his temperature was higher than ideal. 

 

    Pausing along the way, he reached for Jazz’s helm, turning it to the dull light. He gently ran a digit over his lips. They were heat cracked from his exventing. He might not enjoy being trussed up like a mechanimal, but in order to survive, he needed to be outside and cooler. He would have to stay there with him, but that would be alright. 

 

    His companion made a noise and too late Prowl realized he’d been worriedly stroking those heat cracked lips. He was a fool. 

 

    He quickly took out a wire, wrapping up the sleeping figure. Ratchet would be angry over this sort of thing.  _ Don’t move my patient _ , he’d say,  _ not until I get a proper diagnosis.  _ But Ratchet wasn’t here so he would have to be dragged outside.

 

    After the fuel was carefully stacked for a high-efficiency burn he hitched his guest up and went out. 

   It was bitter cold when the sun went down but protocol demanded he stay outside and keep watch, despite the feeling that his exhaust was crystallizing. He counted the cycles of time as a game, trying to accurately guess how many astrocycles had passed since last he checked.

 

   The tied up cocoon of a bot next to him shifted, making Prowl jerk in response. But as soon as he shifted, the bot began the low croon of the song again. 

 

    It wasn’t fair, this bot for doing these things. It wasn’t fair at all. 

 

    Prowl didn’t quiet him. Those seekers wouldn’t be out in the frigid air again. No matter how piercing the song was no one would be out to hear it. It made him nostalgic and oddly warm, even against the bitter wind. He slid his peds into his blanket. According to his internal chronometer, he still had about twenty astroklicks before the fire plasma flared hot enough to boil snow. 

 

    He wondered what Jazz was like. He was visored for intelligence but had strange horns that lent themselves to unbridled touch. It was weird to see them so blunted. He was a grounder but not much else could be assumed by his build. Songs were such a rarity among any bot so there was no telling where this particular model came from. 

 

    The way he felt was asinine, what business did he have getting tangled up with such a bot. But no matter how many times he reasoned with himself he reminded him of Prime’s protocol. Something nagged at the corner of his processor that this wasn’t just about the protocol. 

 

His timer pinged and he stood to set up his makeshift purification system and returned to the singing bot. 

 

There were no discernible lyrics but there were words peeking out of the murmuring song. What kind of bot sang as he died? He would have to return home to speak with the Prime about it. It’s importance also pushed at the edges of nostalgia, making him homesick for people. Maybe this could be a good thing.

 

After the arduous process of purifying the water, getting the water in as a coolant was easy enough. They would have to do this far more often than normal coolant, as the water would evaporate, even in the cooler weather. 

 

But of course, he already had a plan laid out for that as well. He could trade the jet fuel for enough coolant for them both to last. 

 

He hadn’t been productive enough, not to his own satisfaction. Still, the day was through. Prowl dragged Jazz back inside. Tomorrow would have to be better. 


End file.
